


Serein

by thornswithroses



Category: DCU (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crime Fighting, Drabble Collection, Gen, Memories, Motherhood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2017-12-30 21:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornswithroses/pseuds/thornswithroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rain speaks to one's own language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Diana

**Author's Note:**

> Little drabbles focusing around exploring my personal favorite comic book female characters. 
> 
> I'm writing Wonder Woman and Huntress in their comic universes as they have yet to have any feature in any of the DC movies, which, well, fuck you DC. Black Widow, on the other hand, you can imagine her to be in whatever is your preference: the movies, a particular comic verse, and so forth.

Her birth blood is the rain that falls over she and Hippolyta.

The baby has no cord for she has no navel, she is a baby whose cells grew from the blessing of the goddesses. She belongs to no blood or flesh of man.  Hippolyta's eyes are endless swells of ink but the baby, as she grows, her eyes will always be that same birth blue. Hippolyta cannot give her milk to suckle, no matter how badly she wants to.

But it is alright.

It is alright because when she holds the baby to her chest, she feels her take to the heat of her skin and hands, and Hippolyta smiles as the baby's cries grow quiet. And that will do. 

Hippolyta couldn’t be happier. She feels that nothing will ever force her arms to shake as she holds her child, she will be the baby's shield, her sword, the hands that break those who lay harm on her. For this baby is something precious and no other gift could ever compete.

The chill night air, the pale sand, the tides that come and go, licking at Hippolyta's feet, and the rain, is as much a part of her daughter as Hippolyta is.

Why else did she name her heavenly, divine,  _Diana_?


	2. Helena

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never tried my hand at writing Helena before and I find that I like it. I've always felt connected to her, especially as she and I are both Catholics.

It is raining. Blood, pulsing, meat, anger, passion, pinkens from the water and Helena will joke to herself the next day that fighting is so much like painting—see what pretty colors she makes when she hits someone.

For now, the blood within her runs like raging rivers. Her mask is wet and fits tight over her face like a veil pulled taut and she punches—and kicks—and punches again.

She has a split lip. It stings as she speaks to the man crumpled on the ground. She tells him that the school is under her watch. She tells the man that if she ever sees him again, she promises that Hell will be gentler than her once she gets through with him.

The man passes out. Those words will linger behind his eyelids.

Helena breathes in, breathes out. She fights back from shivering from the mist clinging to her skin now. Her hair looks all the blacker when wet and it sticks to her neck like feathers.

She shuts her eyes and tips her head back for a moment. She lets the rain wipe across her brow like a blessing.


End file.
